Placed On This Isthmus Of A Middle

With Too Much Quickness Ever To Be Taught; With Too Much Thinking To Have Common Thought.

A Generous Friendship No Cold Medium Knows, Burns With One Love, With One Resentment Glows.

There Is Nothing That Is Meritorious But Virtue And Friendship.

Ye Flowers That Drop, Forsaken By The Spring, Ye Birds That, Left By Summer, Cease To Sing, Ye Trees That Fade, When Autumn Heats Remove, Say, Is Not Absence Death To Those Who Love?

The Dances Ended, All The Fairy Train For Pinks And Daisies Search'd The Flow'ry Plain.